


Silence

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ...Maybe?, Angel-On-Angel Incest, Brief Violence, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer allows his thoughts to pour through the mortal subconscious. He touches good dreams and bad, young souls and old.</p><p>Lucifer is drawn to one, though. It is a familiar thing. Not wholly human. Angel...perhaps. Locked in a dying dream. </p><p>--<br/>Spoilers for 5x18 (Point of No Return), 5x19 (Hammer of the Gods), and 5x21 (Two Minutes to Midnight)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

Gabriel had to die. The moment he chose humanity over Heaven, his fate was sealed.

His death is just one more sacrifice. Another domino that had to fall to reach the destiny that Father created for them. Lucifer knows this.

But he still pauses at the sight of his brother dead at his feet, the shadow of his wings dusting the floor. A bloody blade dangles from the fingers of the Devil's dying vessel.

Gabriel was a traitor to Heaven. He was a coward, a deserter. But Gabriel also cared. About everyone, everything. Maybe he cared too much.

Lucifer is fated to meet Michael in battle. To kill his brother, or be killed. Wasn't this destiny enough for his Father? Why allow this confrontation with Gabriel? Why force Gabriel to choose at all?

Lucifer returns to Detroit, heartbroken and angry. The building swarms with demons, a nest created for protection and vessel maintenance.

One by one, Lucifer dismantles them. He hears the cries of the human souls inside their vessels. Their screams only make their destruction more satisfying. 

Some of the demons beg for their lives. There is a traitor in their midst, they say. A demon of the crossroads working with the Winchesters. Feeding them information on the locations of the Horsemen.

Lucifer wants to find this demon. He wants to find the Winchesters too. Without them, Gabriel never would have faced him. He would still be alive.

In his fury, Lucifer considers throwing his Father's plans to the wayside. He can kill all three of them with the remaining strength in his vessel. Lose the Apocalypse, but have his revenge.

The damage is already done, though. What would be the point of denying his Father the carnage he so clearly craves?

Lucifer devours the blood of the dead demons at his feet. This is the part he hates the most, draining these mutations of their blood. His continued existence is disgustingly dependent on the monsters he created. But it is necessary. God has made it so.

Sated, Lucifer cleans the blood from his vessel's face. The body is still graying and covered in sores. But Lucifer feels the restorative power of the demon blood, his strength stabilizing within the thin membranes of his human. 

Lucifer summons his trackers through silent means. Find the Winchesters, he tells them, and the demon Crowley. Everything must stay on schedule.

Mission communicated, Lucifer sits and closes his eyes. Nick, poor Nick, screams inside him. The demon blood burns at what little remains of his humanity.

Lucifer allows himself a smile. The poor beast. Where is his God now, the one who supposedly loves his kind best?

And where are Michael and Raphael?

Lucifer hears rumors that Michael has moved on from the elder Winchester. A new vessel of the bloodline will be tapped for their meeting. Pity. Lucifer preferred the poetry of Sam meeting his big brother on the battlefield. But if this is the only way, who is he to question it?

Lucifer snorts. Who is he to question anything?

With the plan still on schedule, what would be the harm in Michael and Raphael appearing to him before the end? Their brother is dead. Can't a few human hours be spared to grieve for Gabriel? And to grieve the fate Father has forced on them?

No, Michael and Raphael will not come.

Lucifer allows his thoughts to pour through the mortal subconscious. He touches good dreams and bad, young souls and old. Together, they weave a menagerie of meaningless hopes and fears. Simple, short bursts of walking chaos.

Lucifer is drawn to one, though. It is a familiar thing. Not wholly human. Angel...perhaps. Locked in a dying dream. 

Angels do not dream, yet here Lucifer stands. He plants his feet on black soil of the mind. In this scene, he finds himself surrounded by death and fire. Light bursts around him, the exploding grace of falling angels.

Then, he sees Sam and Dean Winchester. The brothers stand in front of each other. Their stomachs have been pierced by archangel blades. As blood slips from their stunned lips, they collapse into messy piles of bones. Their lifeless eyes stare out, glassy like painted dolls.

Lucifer has little question of where he has landed.

Soon enough, he finds the physical embodiment of his brother. Castiel has made himself small, his knees drawn to his chest. His adorable trench coat is gone, leaving behind a disheveled black suit and blue tie. His brow is bleeding, and his face is bruised.

"Isn't this what you wanted, brother?" he asks.

Castiel does not answer. Lucifer sees his eyes, large and dead, peeking between his parted knees.

Lucifer crosses the mental constructs of flame and shadow. It is nauseatingly human, this vision. So limited in its scope. 

Lucifer grabs Castiel by the suit jacket. His brother sags awkwardly against him.

"This is what happens when you pick _them_ over _us_ , Castiel."

Castiel stares up at him, broken and silent.

Lucifer shoves him away. The hand that touched him feels dirty. Lucifer wipes it on his leg.

So, Father will not speak, Raphael and Michael will not speak. Even the traitor Castiel will not speak. What a fitting, final tribute to Gabriel's betrayal. 

Lucifer screams.

His pain is greater than a human mind, greater than what little remains of his brother's grace. Lucifer's anguish destroys everything. This constructed Apocalypse, centered selfishly on the fates of two humans, disappears. Fire, blood, and bones are carried off into the wind. 

The storm engulfs Lucifer and Castiel last, tossing them about like ships on a violent sea. Everything becomes nothing.

***

Nothing becomes grass. Trees spanning centuries stretch wide overhead. A rose bush stands in a clearing, its blossoms a vibrant, life-giving red.

Castiel gasps for oxygen he should not need. Wary, he focuses on his brother from his seat on the forest floor.

Lucifer plucks a rose blossom and brings it to his nose. Sweet. Perfect, like all but one of his Father's creations.

Lucifer's vessel is whole and healed within this sanctuary. He tests this with a thumb dragged down the side of the rose stem. His human skin snags on a thorn. A bead of blood swells on the fingertip. 

Curiously, Lucifer watches it, as does Castiel. He could heal himself easily, but he chooses not to.

"Where are we?" Castiel does not want to ask. He does not want to say anything. But what's done is done. Lucifer has complete control of this space. If his brother wanted him dead, he would be already.

Lucifer glances up at the trees. "This place is my own, Castiel. A retreat, if you will. What remains of your grace is here with me." Lucifer shrugs with mild interest. "Now, where your _vessel_ is... I hear you've landed on a ship off Delacroix. They say the gumbo is quite delicious. You should give it a try now that you have use of your taste buds. If you wake up, that is."

Castiel frowns. He stands slowly, under Lucifer's nonchalant gaze.

"Human," Castiel murmurs. He knows it to be true as soon as he says the word. 

"Oh yes," Lucifer confirms. "You're an occupied vessel drained of its grace. Just as human as the brothers you've dedicated your life to protecting." He smiles. "I don't see eye-to-eye with Father, as you know. But in this case, I appreciate his sense of humor."

Castiel turns away.

Lucifer watches without sympathy. "You chose mankind over your family, Castiel. This is what happens to traitors."

"What about you?" Castiel replies darkly. "You, who put pride before _your_ family. What happens to that kind of traitor?"

He barely gets the question out before he is wrenched from the grass by his neck. Castiel chokes and gags. Weakly, he tears at his brother's fingers.

"Is it worth it, brother?" Lucifer's eyes become black, drowning in demon blood. But there is a light behind the darkness, white and cold. Castiel's face flushes with lack of breath. He cannot respond.

Lucifer lets go, seconds from snapping what little remains of Castiel's grace. Castiel sinks to his knees, gasping for air.

"How many of us have you betrayed?" Lucifer demands. He stares hungrily at the blood trickling from Castiel's mouth. "How many have you killed? Is it worth it, brother!?"

Castiel can barely focus. The forest spins sickeningly around him. Bile rises, hot and foul, in his throat.

He forces himself to squint through his dizziness, meeting the fury in his brother's eyes. The sadness. The confusion.

Suddenly, he gets it.

Lucifer will not kill him, and he is not here to revel in Castiel's fall from grace. He wants answers. And Castiel, in his fall, is the only one who might understand.

But Castiel does not. The last time he searched for meaning, he was met with a message to back off. The Apocalypse, the end of the world? None of it was his Father's concern. Even now, with everything teetering on the edge of destruction, his Father does not care.

"I don't know," Castiel says.

Immediately, the Devil is upon him. He grabs Castiel's suit jacket and shakes him so viciously that dark spots swim over Castiel's eyes.

"You have to know," Lucifer hisses.

The forest fades, as does Lucifer. Castiel is falling again.

***

Blades of pain cut through Castiel. He is broken; blood and cracked bones.

Castiel sucks in a breath, salty and thick. The caws of gulls call out overhead. He feels hot, the burn of the sun on his unprotected skin. 

He tries to open his eyes, but all he sees are hands. Grabbing him, carrying him. They cradle his body as if one false move will cause every limb to detach.

Castiel feels tired and alone. They are two sensations he has never experienced before.

Fingers force one of Castiel's eyelids open. Light floods his vision. He strains against it, desperate to be left in darkness. 

He just wants to sleep. Maybe he will dream. A vision of peace and happiness at the end of this nightmare.

But how can there be peace in a Godless world?

***

"Won't you speak, brother?"

Castiel squints through sunlight trickling between the web of branches overhead.

There are fingers threading through his hair, stroking him like a child.

The Devil's eyes are red-rimmed with sorrow. "Won't anyone speak?" he asks. For a fleeting moment, Castiel remembers him before the fall. How strong he was. How beautiful.

Castiel hears nothing after this.

***

Then, a beep.

Blurry, dark shapes swim around him. Are they human? Demons? Swaying, faceless skin? 

The beasts say things that Castiel does not understand. "Coma," "brain dead," "John Doe." Castiel tries to focus on these words, but he can't.

He is being beckoned by light. Or is it fire? 

The need to sleep crushes Castiel like a lead weight. It swallows, and he slides sweetly back to the abyss.

***

Into the forest again, the floor scattered with fallen rose petals.

Castiel sits up under the watchful gaze of the Devil. Awkwardly, he rubs a bruise on his cheek. "Am I dead?" he asks.

Lucifer wraps arms around him and presses their foreheads together.

Castiel is startled, stiff in his grasp. But he does not try to move, does not even think to. He just stares into his brother's eyes.

"Haven't you heard?" Lucifer murmurs. "We're all dead, Castiel."

Castiel wants to argue. There is still life in the world his Father created, and while there is life there is hope.

But, he remembers Dean, seconds away from offering himself to Michael. The righteous man, defeated. He remembers Sam, the boy with the demon blood. His gentle soul warped by the darkness inside him. Castiel remembers the old drunk. Surly, loyal Bobby, condemned to a wheelchair.

Angels killing angels. Archangels fighting archangels. And, above all, an absent God who could not care less about any of it.

Castiel does not need to speak. His agreement is written in his miserable expression. It is why Lucifer traces fingers across his cheek. Why he smiles when Castiel dares to make eye contact again.

Is it a surprise when Lucifer kisses him? Castiel wants to be shocked, and he wants to be angry. He may have fallen from Heaven, he may no longer be an angel, but he is better than the Devil. He will never be a traitor.

But Castiel can't fight, not anymore. His eyes close under the weight of his exhaustion.

He lets Lucifer wrap him more tightly in his embrace. The Devil's hand slides into his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Castiel hooks fingers into the folds of his shirt. Beneath his knuckles, he can feel the ridge of his vessel's collarbone.

Gabriel is dead.

Has Lucifer given him this knowledge, or does Castiel just know? 

Gabriel. Dead? It's impossible. Gabriel is the angel who lives too much.

Uriel. Anna. So many of their kin. How many more, before the end? Is any of this worth it?

Lucifer urges Castiel's head up with a pull of his hair. He closes his hand into a fist, noting the way Castiel's eyes close and his mouth opens on a gasp. Lucifer's lips fit to his neck, cool against warm skin.

He lingers here, only lifting his head when Castiel's breath hitches. Castiel's eyes are glazed, and there are strange wet trails outlining his face.

Castiel sucks in a breath, expression clouded with shame. "I- I don't." His voice is shaking. "I've never..."

Lucifer sighs and smears his tears away. He uses his unhealed thumb, torn by the rose thorn. His touch leaves salt and blood streaked on Castiel's face.

He is so impure in this moment. Disfigured. Monstrous. But Lucifer is still drawn to him. He pulls Castiel closer.

Castiel shudders beneath him, disgusted and thankful. His lips part beneath Lucifer's mouth. Lucifer accepts his offering, cupping his face in his hands. Around them, the sweet scent of roses circles.

Lucifer opens Castiel's shirt buttons and loosens his tie, letting the edges hang limp on his chest. Castiel's hands work too, shedding Lucifer of his jacket so he can remove the shirt beneath.

At a soft rustle, Castiel lifts his head. His eyes widen when he finds that the Devil has unveiled his wings. They are more magnificent than Castiel remembers. Large. Proud. A stunning, unblemished white. 

Castiel can't help his stare. His wings are beautiful. Terrible. They fold around Castiel, stroking his shoulder blades. The place where his own damaged, black wings once resided. 

It is this touch that truly makes Castiel realize what he has lost. Where his wings once were, there is only emptiness. Where he felt the warmth of Heaven, there is nothing.

"Were they worth it, brother?" Lucifer asks.

Castiel is shattered.

He nods, trying to hide the anguish from his face. This pain is too intimate to be shared with even his closest kin. Let alone Satan himself.

Father allowed Lucifer to keep his wings... _Lucifer_. The most awe-inspiring, majestic white wings. Castiel was deemed less worthy than the Devil. He has fallen further from Heaven than the one Heaven despises most.

Angry tears sting Castiel's human eyes. He turns away, unwilling to have his pain looked upon by this traitor.

But he falters when Lucifer's wings curl around him again. Feathers ghost across his bare shoulders.

Castiel falls, as he always does.

He sinks into his brother's wings, whispering reverent kisses into their expanse. His fingers comb through their feathers, shaking with human emotions. Lust. Jealousy.

Lucifer sighs but allows his attention. With his lack of complaint, Castiel becomes bolder. He lifts his arms to trace the upper boning, following its trail to the skin of his vessel's back.

With every touch, Castiel feels emptier. Every caress pulls him further from grace.

Lucifer's wings thrum, wavering pleasantly around him. He watches his brother's worship with pity.

"Chin up, Castiel." Lucifer cups his jaw and forces his head to rise. "This will be over soon."

"You don't have to do this," Castiel grits suddenly. "Why fight Michael? Father abandoned you." It is blasphemy of the highest order. But what does Castiel care about blasphemy anymore? "He abandoned all of us, Lucifer."

"It's not about Him," Lucifer says. It is a partial truth, one that he levels with an even stare. "It's about them. What they've done. It's too late for forgiveness, Castiel."

"Brother-"

"It's too late," Lucifer murmurs. His tilts his head towards the sky.

 _It is too late_ , Castiel realizes. It is his last thought before the darkness takes him. 

***

He lands into tears and silent cries. There is something constricting his air, something burrowed down his throat. Castiel gags around it, sobbing soundlessly. A beep creeps closer, becoming sharper with each pulse.

The night nurse runs out to the hallway, yelling for a doctor.

Castiel pulls at the IV needles taped to his arms. The beeps pierce faster and louder in his ears. He writhes helplessly against the numbness stalling his legs.

Castiel sees roses, white wings, and the certainty of his own death. He is afraid. It's so new, this human emotion. Terrible, debilitating.

There are people around him now, saying things he can't understand.

Castiel does not need to understand them. He just needs a phone. A phone will get him closer to the Winchesters, and closer to Bobby Singer's auto repair shop.

He needs to forget the Devil's wings. Forget the pain in his eyes. Forget that Gabriel is dead, and Uriel, and Anna.

His struggles weaken when something is pushed into his mortal blood. Something sweet and paralyzing. He feels drowsy, on the precipice of a dream.

Nightmare, more likely. Castiel tries to fight it. He reaches out with trembling hands, but his arms are grabbed and strapped back down.

He needs Dean and Sam. He needs to go home.

But sleep comes to him instead, drug-induced and immediate. Castiel does not dream. He just fades to black.

***

Lucifer opens his eyes to a room littered with dead demon vessels. A rose blossom sits between his blistered fingers. His human body is weak again, disfigured by oozing sores and blackened veins.

Lucifer holds the rose to his nose, then lets its petals brush against his lips.

He thinks of his fallen brothers. Gabriel, Castiel. Their only crime, perhaps, is caring too much. Loving those too selfish to love them in return.

Wasn't this also Lucifer's crime? He only loved God too much. A God who cares too little to forgive him for his love.

"What's the point?" he asks. 

There is no answer.

With a shake of his head, Lucifer tosses the rose to the floor.

*The End*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Tumblr](http://daisy4days.tumblr.com) too, if you want to say hi ^^v


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